Ordonneaux, commander, which arrived at Boston some time since, from a cruise of three months, chiefly in the English and Irish channels, in which she captured thirteen or fourteen valuable prizes, to the amount, it was said, of more than a million of dollars.

Quid petis hic est.—Martial.

What is wealth, that men will roam,
Risque their all, and leave their home,
Face the cannon, beat the drum,
And their lives so cheaply sell!

Let them reason on the fact
Who would rather think than act—
Their brains were not with morals rack'd
Who mann'd the prince of Neufchâtel.

Having play'd a lucky game,
Homeward, with her treasure, came
This privateer of gallant fame,
Call'd the prince of Neufchâtel.

Are the english cruisers near?
Do they on the coast appear
To molest this privateer?—
She shall be defended well.

Soon a frigate hove in sight:-
As the wind was rather light,
She, five barges, out of spite,
Sent, to attack, with gun and blade.

On our decks stood rugged men,
Little more than three time ten;
And I tremble, while my pen
Tells the havoc that was made.

Up they came, with colors red,
One a stern, and one a head—
Shall I tell you what they said?—
Yankees! srtike the buntin rag!

Three were ranged on either side—
Then the ports were open'd wide,
And the sea with blood was dyed;
Ruin to the english flag!

Now the angry cannons roar,
Now they hurl the storm of war,
Now in floods of human gore
Swam the prince of Neufchâtel!

Then the captain, Ordonneaux,
Seconded the seaman's blow,
And the remant of the foe
Own'd the brig defended well.

For the million she contain'd
He contended, sword in hand,
Follow'd by as brave a band
Of tars, as ever, trod a deck.

In these bloody barges, five,
Scarce a man was left alive,
And about the seas they drive;
some were sunk, and some a wreck.

Every effort that they made
With boarding pike, or carronade,
Every effort was repaid,
Scarcely with a parallel!

Fortune, thus, upon the wave,
Crown'd the valor of the brave:—
Little lost, and much to save,
Had the prince of Neufchâtel.